


Forgotten Heroes

by pushingclovers



Category: The Property of Hate
Genre: Gen, angsty af, ready the tissues, remind me why i wrote this, why am I doing this to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingclovers/pseuds/pushingclovers
Summary: Hero went home, just as she wanted. Didn't she?





	

The girl pouted as she watched her parents bicker on and on. She knew very well that it was her fault, as she shouldn't have told them about her friends. Of course they didn't believe her story about a man with a telly for a head, as well as many others. Now her mother insisted on getting her a therapist, while her father said that she wouldn't understand the point. Oh, if only they knew. If only they had seen what she'd seen.

At first, she had been so excited to go back home. Didn't even think of the consequences. Didn't think twice about RGB's disappointed tone. She just wanted to see her parents again. Once she was home, she kept quiet about the whole thing, keeping the strange world she'd explored her own little secret. On her ninth birthday, she'd accidentally called one of her friends Madras, but only because she couldn't remember her name. That had caused an uproar, and she'd retreated to her room, never to speak of the incident again. She let more hints slip, but not on purpose. When she was introduced to a boy named Toby, she'd muttered it under her breath, with emphasis on the "To". He hadn't noticed, but others did.

Then she started collecting things. A pink doll with one eye ripped out. Candy floss and chocolate shards arranged in a vague bird shape. Random parts from musical instruments. Another doll ripped apart and haphazardly sown back together. A broken microphone. Different sized marshmallows. When she went as far as to paint their old discarded television with a test patterned smile, her parents finally asked what was going on. And now, here they were.

Her father gave up and let her mother be, going off to find his daughter. When he did, he lifted her and hugged her tightly, sighing. "Oh, sweetness, I'm sorry. I'm afraid the warden wants you to go talk to someone about this."

"I'm not insane, dad. I promise." Her dark brown eyes were wide as she clung to his torso. She had missed the affectionate contact, but now she missed the scarce closeness from RGB.

"I know you aren't. You've just got an active imagination. It's just...she wants to make sure nothing is wrong." The elder sighed again, gently squeezing her. "That's all."

* * *

Her first therapy session was on Thursday morning, all the way across town. She was dragged out of the house, stuffed into a new red hoodie, despite her protest, and plopped into the car. She was half asleep as her mother rambled through, explaining that she didn't think she was crazy, per-say, that it was just to make sure, and that  _wake up we're almost there!_ She groaned, sitting up as they pulled into the half-empty parking garage. Within moments, she was being led into the warm building, a nice welcome after the brisk cold outside. Once again, she was placed in a chair, while the other went to the counter to sign in.

The young child reached in her pocket and wrapped her fingers around a cloth, relaxing. She wouldn't dare bring it out with her mother around, but she spoke softly. "If it were really you, Assok, you could help prove that it wasn't my imagination."

"What was that, dear?"

"Nothing, mum." She could almost hear an echo in her head, and she smiled ever so slightly.

It was twenty minutes before they called her back, and another ten waiting for her mother to 'explain'. Her therapist finally came out, leading the girl's mother back to the waiting room before waving her through the open door. He smiled warmly, chrome eyes lit despite blond curls falling over them. There was something about his stature, the way he held himself, and how his hand seemed so elegantly poised that seemed oddly familiar. It wasn't until he spoke quietly to her that it clicked. "After you, Hero. It's been a while."

Her eyes widened in wonder, waiting until the door was closed to grin wide. "RGB! You came back for me!" His smile faltered as the girl barreled into his legs, hugging tightly.

"Yes, but here its Dr. Barlow. You can't call me RGB in front of anyone else, got it?"

"Okay!" She nodded enthusiastically. "Since when are you a therapist?"

"Since never. But I'm a hellova good actor." He pried her off, sitting behind the desk. "Sit down, so it at least looks like I'm a professional." She nodded again, eagerly sitting in the chair across from him.

"How are you..." She tilted her head, thinking a moment. "What happened to your telly head? Are you still a monster?"

"Not quite sure. About either of them."

"How are the others?"

His smile faltered once more, and he leaned back. "They're...good. All good."

"Has anything changed, since I left? Do you need another hero? I can come back! I won't leave again!"

He studied her, then sighed deeply. "Hero. I don't know. Okay? I can't take you back, and it's too late for a hero. It's a lost cause now. You have to come back to this world entirely. It's not safe there anymore. Let it go."

"...but I can't. I mean...I was meant to save them, wasn't I? Before I came back here?" She frowned, sagging in her seat. "Why can't I go back? You said-"

"I know what I said. But it's too late. Please. Your mother is worried. After this, you won't see me again." He reached out a hand, and when she pulled away, he sighed. "I wish there was another way to say this...they're all going to die. Everyone, and everything. It's not your fault, I promise."

 "Why did you let me leave then?" She sounded angry, tears welling in her eyes. "If you knew it was going to end, why did you take me back home?"

"You weren't giving me much of a choice."

"You could've told me!"

"I was trying, and you weren't listening!"

"Try harder next time!" She was seething, trying her best not to throw a tantrum again. Dr. Barlow rubbed his temples, eyes closed.

"There will never be a next time. When I leave, everyone there will forget. It will be like there never was a hero. I suggest you act accordingly." He stood, walking over to the door and swinging it open, looking at her pointedly. "It will help us both."

She glared, fisting the fabric of her hoodie as she strode out, keeping whatever control she had left. She couldn't just throw it all away. But she had to, didn't she?

When she spoke to her mother again, she forned the words slowly and evenly, escaping to her room before losing all resolve.

_"It was only a silly dream."_


End file.
